


your heart in mine

by starlight_sugar



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kyle turns twelve he realizes that he doesn’t remember a birthday without Miles. Maybe that means he has a bad memory, but maybe that means Miles makes the birthdays worth remembering. (Or: Miles and Kyle grow up together. They go to college apart. It's harder than Kyle expected.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart in mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fictional story involving fictional likenesses of real people. Rooster Teeth does not have my permission to use any portion of my work in their content.
> 
> With thanks and love to [Noah,](http://finalbosman.tumblr.com) who introduced me to the wonders of the sponsor ship, and to [Tam,](http://mysblink.tumblr.com) who let me yell at them about the idea and the writing process.

**3.**

To: Miles (2:37 PM)  
You there yet?

From: Miles (2:38 PM)  
Two more hours

To: Miles (2:40 PM)  
At least you’re halfway there

From: Miles (2:41 PM)  
That’s easy for you to say when you’re not the one stuck in a car for two more hours

From: Miles (2:42 PM)  
Are YOU there yet?

To: Miles (2:43 PM)  
Five minutes away, I can see campus from here

From: Miles (2:44 PM)  
Is your roommate there

To: Miles (2:45 PM)  
Yeah

To: Miles (2:45 PM)  
He texted me to inform me that he gets the bed closer to the window

From: Miles (2:47 PM)  
Wow what an asshole, taking the bed with a view

To: Miles (2:48 PM)  
You know I can’t sleep near the window

From: Miles (2:48 PM)  
Yeah

From: Miles (2:48 PM)  
I know

 

Kyle’s roommate helps him carry boxes up to the room. “I got here forty minutes ago,” he explains when Kyle’s mom asks. “My parents are at Target picking up all the shi- things we forgot.”

“I’m glad they can help you pick up your shi-things,” Kyle’s mom says, because nobody ever said Mama Taylor wasn’t cool. “And thank you for helping us.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Kyle adds. He hadn’t met Josh in person till now, since they had different orientation sessions and lived far enough apart that meeting was a hassle. But they’d emailed and texted, and Kyle likes to think he’s friends with the guy. He also likes to think his friendship is going to survive the test of living in a tiny cube of a dorm room.

Josh makes some kind of motion with his shoulder that, Kyle assumes, is supposed to be waving him off, as best he can while carrying two boxes. “Man, I’m bored, and the faster you move in, the faster we can go explore campus.”

Kyle’s phone buzzes in his pocket. If his count is right, that’s the third time. He ignores it. “Yeah, absolutely. I don’t know where anything is.”

“You took the tour,” Mom reminds him gently. “You know where some things are.”

“I know where the dining hall is.”

“That’s all that matters anyways.” Josh stops in front of room 310. “You have a key, right?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a free hand.”

Kyle is dragging two suitcases, which he thinks takes its own kind of careful maneuvering, but he lets one go to dig through his pocket. His phone vibrates insistently; he ignores it and pulls out his key. “Here we go.”

The room looks… well, exactly like the room from the dorm tour, and exactly like the picture that Josh had sent him earlier. It’s cramped, two beds and two desks and not a hell of a lot else. It’s also where Kyle is going to be spending the vast majority of the next four months of his life.

“I know, it’s huge,” Josh says, setting both boxes on Kyle’s bed with a grunt. “Fancy as can be.”

“High-rolling,” Mom says, and puts her own boxes on Kyle’s bed. “I’m going to get the last boxes myself, you boys can start unpacking.” She slips out the door.

Kyle glances at Josh. “You don’t have to help me unpack.”

Josh snorts. “I think you’re underestimating how bored I am. I’d watch paint dry just for something to do.”

“The exciting life of a college freshman,” Kyle intones. He opens the first box, full of clothes and hangers. “You wanna hang shit in my closet?”

“I changed my mind, you can unpack yourself.”

Kyle makes a face. His phone goes off again. Miles is many things, but patient he is not.

“You can check your phone in front of me,” Josh says. “That’s a normal thing to do, you know.”

“I know, I just want to unpack first.”

His phone vibrates for what has to be the thousandth time. When Kyle glances at Josh, his eyebrows are raised. “You sure that can wait until you’re unpacked?”

“It absolutely can,” Kyle says, but he takes his phone out anyways. He has eight new texts from Miles, all from the last ten minutes. They’re all variations on the same thing: road trips suck, text me back, tell your roommate I say hi. He turns to Josh. “My best friend from back home says hi.”

“Miles, right?”

“Yeah. You’ll probably meet him at Skype on some point, so sorry in advance.”

“Is he that bad?”

There’s a moment where Kyle almost says something horrifyingly honest, like _he’s the best person I’ve met in my entire life,_ but thankfully his phone vibrates again before he has the chance. He opens the text and almost laughs. “He’s demanding a picture to prove that you’re real.”

“Oh, you’re right, that’s just horrible,” Josh says, but strikes a pose involving a peace sign and a dramatic jaw-thrust. “Go ahead, do your worst.”

Kyle rolls his eyes, snaps the picture, and sends it off captioned _I live with him now._ “By the way, you’re going to hear a lot from Miles. He’s really into keeping in touch, if you couldn’t tell from all the texts.”

Josh shrugs. “I’ll be calling home too, it’s not a big thing. Is he still in high school?”

“Nah, he’s starting his freshman year at Vanford Arts.”

“Isn’t that school super competitive?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Kyle says, trying not to sound too obviously proud.

Josh nods. “Nice.”

Kyle’s phone buzzes again, and he glances at the text. “Miles wants to know, and I quote, how does he know that I didn’t just google a stock photo.”

“Do I look like a stock photo?”

“We need a selfie together,” Kyle decides, and positions himself next to Josh. “Say cheese.”

“Arugula.”

Kyle, who was really fucking not expecting Josh to say arugula, ends up with a pretty ugly look on his face in the picture. Josh looks smug as fuck in it.

“Do I want to know what’s going on?” Kyle’s mom says from the door, three boxes in her arms. Josh immediately goes to help her set them down; Kyle sends the picture off (Miles has seen worse of him) and sets his phone on his bed.

“Kyle was introducing me to Miles,” Josh explains. “He didn’t believe I was real.”

“Well, how do you know he’s real?”

Josh looks at Kyle. “That’s a good question. Can I get a picture of him?”

“Turnabout’s fair play,” Kyle says, and shoots off a request for a selfie. If Miles really has two hours left until he gets to Vanford, he can spare a minute to take a picture. “We can get to work as soon as we have proof that Miles is a real person.”

“Well, I’ve met him,” Mom says dryly. “And I think you’re too old to have an imaginary friend.”

“You’re never too old, Mrs. Taylor,” Josh says seriously.

“Yeah, Mom,” Kyle echoes as his phone buzzes. First it’s just a text from Miles ( _nice face, dork,_ because he’s an asshole) and then a selfie. It’s Miles in the passenger seat of his Dad’s car - a seat that Kyle knows well, in a car that he’s probably been in a thousand times. Miles is leaning against the window, with the bland Texas landscape blurring in the background. He’s making a face at the camera.

The caption says _a hundred exits to go._

Kyle’s brain chooses that exact moment to remind him that even though they’re in the same state, Texas is a big-ass state. They’re about four hundred miles apart and counting at this exact moment. This is the closest he and Miles are going to be until Christmas, probably. Four hundred miles away.

“See, he’s real,” Kyle says, and shows Josh his phone screen, and tries not to think about miles per hour and how they’re getting further and further apart. “Road tripping as we speak.”

“Poor asshole,” Josh snorts, and then gives Kyle’s mom the classic teenager’s look of “I didn’t mean to say that word” panic.

Kyle’s mom doesn’t even notice, just gives Kyle a look that’s a little too sympathetic and knowing and says “Let’s start unpacking. Josh, tell me about what you’re studying.”

 

To: Miles (3:01 PM)  
It sounds like a song

To: Miles (3:01 PM)  
One hundred highway exits to go, one hundred exits left

From: Miles (3:03 PM)  
Are you trying to do “99 bottles of beer on the wall” or “but I would walk 500 miles”

To: Miles (3:04 PM)  
The first, but the second is probably better

To: Miles (3:04 PM)  
Unpacking, gonna be busy, text me when you get there

 

From: Miles (4:52 PM)  
SWEET, SWEET FRESH AIR

From: Miles (4:53 PM)  
I am in a land where I can stand instead of sitting and there are no books on tape

To: Miles (4:55 PM)  
You love books on tape, asshole

 

The next few hours are a blur. Kyle meets Josh’s parents, who bring all sorts of essentials from Target that he wouldn’t have thought of. Kyle meets his RA, a short, snarky girl who he likes immediately. Kyle and Josh explore campus and only get lost once, which he’ll admit that he’s proud of. Kyle’s mom leaves after they go out for dinner; she cries on him and Kyle has to try not to do the same. The only way he has to measure time is Miles, who pretty consistently texts every six minutes when he’s stuck in a car, even if Kyle can’t respond.

Miles texts him forty-one times in three hours. Kyle is pretty sure that’s Miles’s way of saying he misses him.

“Either you miss him or you just text too fucking much,” Josh says, a little accusatory.

Miles, on the other side of the Skype window, doesn’t look embarrassed. “I sorta miss him, it’s weird that I can’t just talk to you.”

“We’re talking right now,” Kyle reminds him, even though he understands completely. “We’ve been in different states before.”

Miles shrugs, and Kyle feels a pang of guilt. He hopes Miles doesn’t think it’s his way of telling him not to text so much, or anything like that. If anything, he’s trying to keep himself from texting Miles six thousand times. He could do it, too, pretty easily. Talking to Miles is second nature at this point.

Thankfully, Josh saves him from having to admit that he’s a fucking sap by peering over Kyle’s shoulder. “So either your dorms are really nice or you’re in a hotel right now.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely in a hotel,” Miles says. “I don’t move in until tomorrow, but my move-in time is, like, eight in the morning. So we’re staying the night in a Holiday Inn.”

“The home of class and style,” Kyle says tonelessly.

“KT, I am living large right now.” Miles flops backwards on his bed and out of the camera frame, but he sighs as he stretches out. “In the lap of luxury. Best hotel in the world.”

“Holiday Inn isn’t even the best hotel in that city.”

“I think it’s the only hotel in the city.”

“I think breaking into someone’s house would be a better hotel.”

Miles gasps and sits upright in bed, pointing at the screen. “You take that back!”

“Nope, sorry. Someone’s house would have things like a kitchen, and a shower that isn’t disgusting.”

“Who hurt you, Kyle? Which Holiday Inn did this to you?”

Kyle shrugs, fighting down a smile. “It’s only the truth, Miles. I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”

“You’re breaking my heart right now.” Miles yawns, then frowns. “Okay, I did nothing but sit in a car for four and a half hours, but I’m still exhausted.”

“Driving tires you out.”

“You’re not tired.”

“I drove half as far as you. And in the opposite direction.”

“What does the direction have to do with anything?”

“Well,” Kyle says, “I was driving west, which is towards the end of the day and the sunset. That means I was accepting the passage of time and moving alongside it. But you had to go east, which is unnatural and against the laws of time, and as a result you’re more tired. It’s what you get for going against nature’s will.”

Miles stares at him for a long minute. Kyle can see the smile threatening to spread across his face. “Wow,” he says at last.

“It’s science, Miles.”

“That’s bullshit,” Josh says, and wanders away to sit on his own bed. “Kyle, never take a science class.”

“It’s fucking nature!” Kyle protests. “Fucking Egypt had a god who pulled the sun across the sky, I followed him and earned his favor, you went against him and got his spite. I hope you’re happy, now that you have the gods’ spite against you, you heathen.”

At last, Miles bursts into laughter, high pitched and raucous. It’s almost a giggle fit, and Kyle can feel the sheer delight even through a video call. “Egypt,” he wheezes, “oh my god, you can’t even name the god!”

“It was Ra,” Kyle says smugly. “I watched Yu-Gi-Oh, bitch.”

Miles laughs even harder at that, because of course he does. Kyle gives Josh his best can-you-believe-this look, which is completely wasted because Josh doesn’t even look at him. It takes another minute for Miles to calm down enough to say “You’re full of shit.”

“ _You’re_ full of shit,” Kyle mutters. “That was a pretty good explanation.”

“Oh, no, it was total horseshit, but you tried really hard and that’s what matters. Good job, Kyle. Gold star, A for effort, participation trophy.”

“Don’t you ‘participation trophy’ me.”

“You tried and that’s what matters most, kiddo.”

Kyle sticks his tongue out, which Miles returns. “It’s way too early for you to be yawning anyways. I figured the only reason you’re tired had to be supernatural.”

“Or I’m just tired?” Miles raises his eyebrows. “It’s late, I need to be up early tomorrow, my body’s sending me signs.”

“You might want to listen to those signs,” Kyle says, even though he wants to kick himself as he says it. He doesn’t want to stop talking to Miles, at least not tonight. He doesn’t want this to end. But it’s his job as a reasonably responsible best friend, so he continues. “You’re gonna need strength for unpacking and stuff tomorrow.”

“Unpacking’s easy,” Miles scoffs, but his shoulders slump a little. “Yeah, I hate to ditch you at ten o’clock like an old man-”

“You are old.”

“Bullshit, you’re older than me. So I hate to be the old man in this relationship, but I’m fucking tired.”

“Me too,” Kyle lies. “It’s been a big day, man, we can always talk another day.”

Miles’s face falls, and now Kyle _really_ wants to kick himself. Maybe it’s not the best idea to remind them both that this is all they have now. No more sneaking into each other’s houses at three in the morning, no more sleepovers, no more physical space together. They can Skype every day and it still won’t be the same. Nothing could be.

“Hey,” Miles says softly, leaning in. “You’re right. We can. And you’re getting a play-by-play of everything that happens tomorrow, so you’d better be ready.”

“I can’t wait,” Kyle says flatly, but he smiles. Miles makes him do that, sometimes. “You’ll get some of that, too. An inside look at orientation.”

“I can’t wait,” Miles repeats. “Miss you, KT.”

There’s suddenly a lump in Kyle’s throat, but he forces himself to keep smiling anyways. “Miss you too. Bye, Miles.”

Miles waves. The call ends. Kyle closes his laptop and tries to count how many days are left until winter break.

 

**1.**

Kyle goes through second grade twice, once at his old school and once at his new school. He didn’t have a lot of friends at his old school, but he’s still sad when his mom tells him they’re moving. It’s weird, being somewhere far away and new. Everything’s the wrong colors here, but she doesn’t understand when he tries to tell her that.

The second time he’s in second grade he’s older than everyone, but he doesn’t want them to know. He tells them all he’s seven, and decides that maybe he shouldn’t tell them when he turns eight. Just in case.

(Miles is the only one he tells, and that’s just because Miles lives next door to him. Next-door neighbors are special. Kyle has seen TV shows, from Sesame Street to Jimmy Neutron, that all tell him that next-door neighbors are important. Also, he likes Miles, which is something the TV couldn’t have told him to do.

Miles doesn’t think it’s weird that Kyle’s a year older than him, just asks when his birthday is and then asks if Kyle wants any juice. That’s why Miles is his favorite.)

Kyle’s birthday is on a Tuesday in March, which is a boring day for birthdays and birthday parties, and there’s no point in a birthday party that isn’t on a birthday. That’s what he tells his mom when she asks if he wants a party, and not that he isn’t telling anyone in his class that it’s his birthday. He knows some of them are his friends, but some of them would think it’s weird that he’s old.

During recess, Miles solemnly drags Kyle to the swing set. “You’re getting a birthday push,” he announces.

“Don’t say that,” Kyle whispers, looking around, but they’re the only ones at the swing set. Maybe Miles remembered that it’s a secret. “What’s so special about a birthday push?”

“It’s on your birthday!”

That, Kyle decides, is a good reason, so he gets on the swing. “Gimme a good push.”

“I always give good pushes!”

That’s only sort of true, but Kyle doesn’t say anything, because this is like Miles’s birthday present for him and he doesn’t want to be mean while Miles is giving him a present.

It’s a good push, though. Miles does all the right things: pushes right in the middle of Kyle’s back, moves out of the way when Kyle pumps his legs to get higher. “See, I told you it was a good push!” he exclaims after a minute.

“Get on your own swing,” Kyle calls. A few seconds later Miles is swinging next to him, grinning, eyes bright.

That’s the cool thing about next-door neighbors, Kyle decides. They keep your birthday secrets and give you birthday pushes at school and swing with you. He couldn’t want anything else from a next-door neighbor.

By the time Kyle reaches third grade, he decides he’s mature enough to tell everyone when he turns nine on the day. It’s a Wednesday this year. Miles still gives him a birthday push on the swing set, and this year he gets presents from classmates. Kyle can’t remember what he was so worried about when he was turning eight. Maybe seven-year-olds are just babies.

(When Kyle turns twelve he realizes that he doesn’t remember a birthday without Miles. Maybe that means he has a bad memory, because half his birthdays have been without Miles, but maybe that just means Miles makes the birthdays worth remembering. Even when they don’t get recess and swing sets anymore, Miles still finds ways to give Kyle little presents. Next-door neighbors are the best of all when they’re your best friend, too.)

 

**4.**

To: Miles (10:47 PM)  
I hate chemistry

To: Miles (11:16 PM)  
I really hate chemistry

To: Miles (11:42 PM)  
Miles, holy fucking shit, guess what

From: Miles (11:43 PM)  
I thought your study breaks were every half an hour

To: Miles (11:43 PM)  
They are

From: Miles (11:45 PM)  
The last two were less than half an hour apart, Kyle

From: Miles (11:46 PM)  
You’re breaking the rules

To: Miles (11:48 PM)  
Fuck off

From: Miles (12:18 AM)  
Okay it’s been half an hour get on Skype

From: Miles (12:18 AM)  
Not a question it’s for your own good

To: Miles (12:49 AM)  
Okay fine

 

“Whatever you’re doing, stop,” Kyle says, as soon as Skype is open. “Right now.”

“I was about to say that to you,” Miles says. “You’re busting your ass and it’s not going to help.”

“Hard work isn’t going to get me an A?”

“Not if you don’t sleep.”

Kyle makes a big show of lifting his watch to check the time, because holy goddamn shit, it’s not even that late. “Miles, it’s only elev-” he frowns. It’s not eleven. “It’s not eleven.”

“No,” Miles agrees. “It’s one in the morning. You’re about third of the way to pulling an all-nighter for studying for a chemistry midterm.”

“But the midterm is important,” Kyle says immediately. Maybe his argument will hold less water now that he’s completely mis-estimated what time it is, but he still has to argue. This midterm, this goddamn midterm, is worth a quarter of his final grade in the class. It’s the only science class he has to take to graduate, and he fucking hates science classes because he’s _bad_ at science. He’s not bad at most things - below average, maybe, but not bad - and he figured he should just get it out of the way. He kind of wants to burn his textbook, though, even if it’d be stupidly expensive to pay back the rental fee.

“Of course it is,” Miles says patiently. “But not staying up until one in the fucking morning is also important. We agreed no all-nighters for classes we’re not majoring in, remember?”

“Bullshit, you’re awake at one in the morning, what are you awake for?”

“Where even are you, is your library still open?”

“Dorm common area,” Kyle says, and flips his phone around to show Miles. It’s kind of a shitty lounge, just a bunch of chairs and tables, but there’s nobody else there and Kyle can study until one in the morning if he wants to, so it’s his promised land right now. “I can’t talk too loud, the walls are thin, but I can talk.”

“Can you email me your notes?”

“Why?”

“You need a study buddy,” Miles says grimly. “And I had that production thing earlier today, which is why I’m awake.”

Kyle frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nerves,” Miles says.

“That’s ridiculous,” Kyle answers. Vanford has a student film festival in November, and Miles had interviewed for a production assistant slot, which is more or less unheard of for a freshman. He’d been texting Kyle furiously the whole time he was waiting for the interview to start. Kyle fully expects him to get the position, just because it’s _Miles._ How could anyone not want him?

“And it’s ridiculous that you’re worried about this midterm when I bet you’ll know everything I quiz you on,” Miles shoots back. “But here you are, and I’m awake, so I might as well help.”

Kyle sighs and opens his laptop. “Are you going to understand a single word of what you’re about to read?”

“Nope, but I’m going to read it anyways.”

“You don’t know the first thing about chemistry.”

“I took it in high school,” Miles says. “You were there. Poor Mr. C.”

“Come on, we weren’t too bad in that class.”

“Sure we weren’t.”

Kyle rolls his eyes and hits send on the email. He and Miles might have terrorized every teacher who had them in class together, but they also got good grades. They were good study buddies. Maybe he does need this after all. “Remember, Ag stands for silver, and Au stands for gold.”

“Oh, right, because chemical symbols are a bullshit language, got it.”

“Chemical symbols are-”

“Mostly Latin, yeah, I know.” Miles starts clicking things and presumably opens Kyle’s notes. “Okay, let’s start easy. What’s the difference between an element and a compound?”

“Miles.”

“I know it’s an easy question, just humor me here.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. He knows Miles is trying to build him up by asking softball questions, but this is fucking ridiculous. “A compound is made of multiple elements in a fixed ratio.”

“Good!” Miles grins. “See, you know this.”

“Aren’t you going to keep your roommate up if you study with me?”

“Nah, Kerry’s doing his own all-nighter in a computer lab somewhere.” Miles squints at Kyle’s notes. “What is a valence electron?”

“An electron in an atom’s outermost energy level. Miles, this is-”

“Give an example of an oxidation-reduction reaction, complete with explaining what oxidation, reduction, and agents are.”

Kyle blinks. That wasn’t what he expected the next question to be.

“That wasn’t what I expected the next question to be,” he says, because it’s one in the morning and it’s always easy to say stupid shit to Miles.

Miles shrugs. “Gotta be ready for that midterm, KT. But seriously, isn’t oxidation just adding oxygen? Why do you need to be able to explain what that is?”

“That’s not what oxidation is.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“It’s-” Kyle sighs. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Gotta understand it if you’re gonna explain it,” Miles says cheerfully. “I know you understand it, so explain it. You’re gonna pass the hell out of this midterm if you can tell me what oxidation is.”

Kyle knows what oxidation is. And goddammit, by the end of the night, Miles will too.

 

From: Miles (3:17 AM)  
I’m lying in bed envisioning that one graph as a roller coaster so thanks for that

To: Miles (3:18 AM)  
100% not my fault

To: Miles (3:19 AM)  
Also thank you. Turns out I needed the study buddy

From: Miles (3:20 AM)  
<3

From: Miles (3:20 AM)  
Get some sleep, KT

 

From: Miles (12:34 AM)  
So??????????

To: Miles (12:37 AM)  
I’ve taken worse tests

From: Miles (12:38 AM)  
Gonna count that as a win

 

“How the fuck did you do that,” Cole demands as soon as he sees Kyle’s test grade.

Well, demands is a strong word. Cole isn’t a demanding person, but he’s probably very confused about Kyle’s midterm grade. (Rightfully so. Kyle is kind of confused about it too.)

“I had a good study buddy,” he says, as though that explains anything about this. “And I got lucky.”

“Teach me how to be that lucky,” Cole says. “I’ll pay you.”

“To give you test-taking tips?”

“No, to tutor me in chemistry.”

Kyle pauses midway through typing his _I got a 92_ text to Miles. “Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious. I don’t understand chemistry. I don’t know what an atom is.”

“Everything is atoms, Cole.”

Cole’s eyes narrow. “That’s not funny.”

“Chemistry isn’t a joke.”

“You’re the worst, you think you’re a hotshot just because you got one good grade.”

“It was a really good grade.”

“You must have a really good study buddy.”

“Yeah.” Kyle sends the message off to Miles. Within twenty seconds he has a mess of exclamation points on his phone, and he can’t help but smile. “I do.”

 

From: Miles (1:57 PM)  
I GOT IT

To: Miles (1:58 PM)  
The production gig?

From: Miles (1:58 PM)  
I’M AN ASSISTANT

From: Miles (1:59 PM)  
WHICH ISN’T A BIG DEAL BUT IT’S A BIG DEAL

To: Miles (2:00 PM)  
It’s a big deal

To: Miles (2:00 PM)  
Congrats!!!

From: Miles (2:01 PM)  
THANK YOU

From: Miles (2:01 PM)  
EVERYTHING IS EXCITING TODAY AND CAPS LOCK SEEMS APPROPRIATE

To: Miles (2:02 PM)  
I already know where this is going and no

From: Miles (2:03 PM)  
JOIN ME KYLE

From: Miles (2:03 PM)  
JOIN ME IN THE CAPS LOCK

To: Miles (2:05 PM)  
I kind of don’t want to

From: Miles (2:06 PM)  
PLEASE DON’T KILL MY BUZZ HERE KYLE

To: Miles (2:07 PM)  
The things I do for you, I swear.

To: Miles (2:07 PM)  
CONGRATS MAN I’M PROUD OF YOU

From: Miles (2:08 PM)  
HEY THANKS MAN THAT MEANS A LOT

From: Miles (2:08 PM)  
WHY CAN’T YOU SEND EMOJIS IN CAPS LOCK

To: Miles (2:09 PM)  
Emojis don’t have letters

From: Miles (2:11 PM)  
DAMN IT KYLE THIS IS A BIG DEAL

 

**5.**

The path from Bluemont University to the Vanford College of the Arts consists of a cab ride, a short airplane ride, a longer airplane ride, and then a really shuttle bus ride to the Holiday Inn. It’s actually a pretty nice hotel. Free breakfast in the mornings, which is nice.

Kyle doesn’t know his way around the Vanford campus, but he tries his best. He’s armed with his cell phone, a campus directory, the name of the building he’s getting to, and a very nice girl who sees how lost he looks and points him in the right direction.

Miles’s campus is a lot smaller than his. He might have to ask Miles for a tour, if there’s time. Which there won’t be, because the film festival is going to be two hours, and then they’ll probably go out for dinner or something, and Kyle leaves pretty early the next morning. Airfare is expensive as fuck later in the day, and he thinks Miles can forgive him for wanting to leave early so he can afford to eat for the rest of the semester.

The film festival is screening in a campus auditorium. Kyle stares up at it. The campus is small, but the auditorium is huge. Arts school, indeed.

“Hey, uh, this is a weird thing to say, but I think I know you from somewhere,” a voice says. Kyle turns around and the speaker’s face clears instantly. “Oh. You’re Kyle.”

“And you’re Kerry.”

“Yeah. Nice to meet you outside of Skype, Miles didn’t mention you were coming.”

“He doesn’t know.”

Kerry blinks at him. “Wait, seriously?”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Kyle admits. He’d bought the plane tickets as soon as he found out what day the festival was, but he’d also planned on telling Miles. It was only after he sent the first “I have a surprise” texts that he’d changed his mind. He’s pretty sure Miles is expecting a care package of some kind and not Kyle’s actual presence. “I don’t even know what his film is about.”

“You can sit with us, if you want.”

“Who’s us?”

“Me and a couple of Miles’s friends from film classes. They’re cool, they’ll probably want to meet you.”

“Probably,” Kyle repeats. “Okay, sure. I can spring for probably. Where’s Miles?”

“Everyone who worked on the films gets a reserved seat in front, so he probably won’t be able to sit with us. But there’s a reception afterwards, so you can surprise him then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Awesome.” Kerry grins. “You’re a lot like you are on Skype.”

“Taller in person, I’d hope.”

“Eh.”

“What does eh mean?”

“It means ehhhhhverybody wants to see the festival so hey let’s go find seats!” Kerry starts for the auditorium, leaving Kyle shaking his head as he follows.

Kerry’s friends turn out to be a dyed-blonde girl and a natural blond guy. The guy points at Kyle as soon as they’re all in their seats. “I know you from somewhere.”

“That picture on Miles’s desk,” Kerry offers.

The girl snaps her fingers. “You’re Kyle from back home!”

The guy nods. “That’s always how he talks about you, by the way. ‘My friend Kyle from back home says this,’ ‘Kyle from back home hates that.’ All good things, of course.”

“You’re taller than I expected,” the girl says. “Hey, you go to Bluemont, right? What’s your major?”

Kyle winces as minutely as possible. “Undecided.”

“That’s cool,” she says, unfazed, which is easily the best reaction he’s ever gotten from saying that. “Do you know Maggie in the business school?”

“Tominey? She’s my RA.”

“No way!” She grins. “When you get back, tell her Lindsay Tuggey says hi. We went to high school together.”

Kyle nods. “Uh, by the way, I just want to say my last name isn’t ‘from back home,’ it’s Taylor. So next time Miles says that-”

“We’ll cut him off and wreck his shit,” Kerry promises. “Like friends do. This is Lindsay and Gray, by the way. They’re both doing film too.”

“Miles beat me for his production job,” Gray explains. “Which is the kind of thing that makes friendships around here.”

“Or breaks them,” Lindsay mutters. “Do you know what his film’s about?”

Kyle shakes his head. “He mentioned it was a comedy, that’s all I know.”

“It’s going to be the only comedy here.”

“Is it really?”

Gray holds up a program. “Guess how many of the pieces listed in here have the words ‘the human condition’ in their summary.”

“How many are there?”

“Eleven.”

“Oh, at least three,” Kyle says. “Maybe four.”

“Five,” Lindsay says. “Not a bad guess, though.”

“We’re in for a really artistic night,” Kerry says.

“This is an arts school,” Kyle points out, because he thinks he kind of has to. “You all go here. You knew that it’d be like this. _I_ knew that it’d be like this, and I came for the same reasons as you.”

“We have more friends than just Miles,” Gray says. “And I don’t think anyone else in this auditorium came as far as you did, except for parents.”

“And I bet nobody else is surprising someone,” Kerry adds.

Lindsay looks at him in surprise. “Miles doesn’t know you’re here?”

“Of course not,” Kerry scoffs. “Think about it, would he have stopped talking about it if he knew Kyle was coming?”

“No,” Gray says, and gives Kyle a thoughtful look. “How are you going to surprise him?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle says, as though he hasn’t been thinking about this practically nonstop for the last three days. “By saying hi?”

“We need something more dramatic,” Kerry decides. Thankfully, the lights go dim in the auditorium, and Kerry frowns through the dark. “We’ll talk at intermission.”

“There isn’t an intermission,” Lindsay whispers. “It’s only eleven films. Saying hi is a great idea, Kyle, don’t listen to him.”

“He can do better,” Kerry whispers back. “Also, Miles’s film is the fifth one in the program.”

Kyle nods, settles in, and tries not to count the minutes until the festival is over.

 

From: Josh (7:18 PM)  
how’re the movies

To: Josh (8:39 PM)  
Miles’s was the best one and I’m not just biased

From: Josh (8:40 PM)  
You’re super biased

To: Josh (8:41 PM)  
Yeah but even still his was the best

From: Josh (8:42 PM)  
You know, I actually believe that

 

From: Miles (8:40 PM)  
Your package never got here :(

From: Miles (8:41 PM)  
Or whatever that surprise was, I haven’t gotten it yet

To: Miles (8:44 PM)  
Soon

 

The reception is in the auditorium lobby, and it’s small but tasteful. There’s a cheese platter, a punch bowl, and a few plates of cookies. It’s probably also the most free food Kyle has seen in one place since he started college, so it’s already worth the flights and drives to get there.

“But seriously, what are you gonna say?” Kerry demands, once all four of them have plates of cookies and cups of punch. “Guess who’s back! Did you miss me! Anything other than hi.”

“I’m a fan of ‘surprise, motherfucker,’” Lindsay offers. “Comedic effect.”

“You could say ‘good job on the film,’” Gray says dryly. “The possibilities are endless.”

Kyle downs the last of his punch and sets his cup on his plate of cookies. “All of the above, maybe.”

Lindsay frowns. “Surprise, motherfucker, guess who’s back, did you miss me, good job on the film? That’s kind of a mouthful. Hi is faster.”

“Yeah, but it’s not as emotional,” Kerry says. “The mouthful has emotion and comedy. Win-win.”

Kyle looks at the closed door for about the millionth time. All of the filmmakers had gone backstage after the festival, presumably to be talked at about production and reviews and job opportunities and things like that. Any minute that door is going to open, and sixty people are going to come out of it, and one of them is going to be his best friend.

He’s not nervous, per se, except he’s kind of nervous. It’s not that Miles won’t be happy to see him - they still Skype three or four times a week, they still text constantly, and ever since Kyle’s chemistry midterm Miles has been quizzing him on random chemistry things. He knows that Miles misses him at least as much as he misses Miles. He just doesn’t know what reaction to expect.

“Oh, they’re coming,” Lindsay says excitedly. Kyle almost drops his plate of cookies - small loss, really, because he picked half of them with Miles in mind and he would never touch them, but maybe Miles will appreciate them - as the door swings open. Everyone pauses what they’re doing to applaud politely as a few dozen film students spill through the doors.

“You ready?” Gray says.

Kyle takes a deep breath. “Sure, yeah, let’s go with that.”

“I bet one of them is going to cry,” Lindsay stage-whispers.

“It’s going to be Miles,” Gray murmurs back.

Kyle would argue that Miles doesn’t cry that often, but he’s busy trying to sort through the crowd of people to find Miles. It takes a second but he spots Miles’s head bobbing a few inches above everyone else’s. That tall motherfucker.

“Moment of truth,” Kerry says, and then waves an arm. “Miles! Hey!”

Miles’s forehead pauses and turns towards Kerry’s voice. He starts moving towards them, still working through the crowd of people. Kyle can feel his heartbeat high in his chest, much faster than normal. Any minute the crowd will part and he’ll see Miles and, probably more importantly, Miles will see him. Lindsay’s probably right; someone is definitely going to cry.

“Miles!” Kerry repeats. “Check it out, we got you a surprise.”

“You got him a surprise?” Kyle repeats.

“Kyle got you a surprise,” Gray says quickly. “All his, not us.”

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Kyle swears that Miles starts moving through the crowd faster. If he listens he can hear Miles’s voice, which doesn’t help with the racing heart at all, just quiet little “‘scuse me, pardon me, coming through,” and then-

Miles finally breaks away from the throng of people, turns, and stops moving.

Someone plucks the plate of cookies out of Kyle’s hand; Kyle can’t figure out who and he doesn’t give a fuck anyways. Miles is still standing still, staring straight at Kyle, eyes wide. His mouth moves, although Kyle can’t figure out what he says.

Kyle lifts a hand, slowly, and waves at Miles. Miles’s face lights up.

“We should film this,” someone says, which he ignores because Miles is running at him. Almost full-tilt running, really, only barely avoiding running into an old lady with a plate of cookies. Kyle only has a second to brace himself before Miles crashes into him.

Miles smells the same. It’s nothing special, probably just shampoo, but it smells so much like _home_ that Kyle wants to cry. He settles for throwing his arms around Miles’s neck and clutching as tightly as possible.

Miles’s arms wind around his waist and squeeze. Kyle feels like he could break in half and he thinks it’d be the best thing that could happen to him. There are some things that are just muscle memory, habits ingrained so deep that Kyle couldn’t break them even if he knew what they were. He thinks this is one of those habits. He thinks Miles is one of those habits.

“Oh my god, you’re here,” Miles breathes, warm against Kyle’s neck. “You’re here, what the hell.”

“I’m here,” Kyle manages. It’s hard to talk around the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes, but he manages. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“KT, you beautiful bastard.” Miles pulls away, and Kyle loosens his grip around his neck, a little reluctantly. Miles’s hands come up to bracket Kyle’s face, and before Kyle can ask what he’s doing, Miles leans in and smacks a loud kiss on Kyle’s forehead. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I did,” Kyle says. Miles’s eyes go soft and his smile gets even wider, and Kyle realizes he’s smiling too, that his face hurts from it. “Good job, by the way. Your film was the best.”

“Well, thank you very much.” Miles lets go of Kyle’s head to swing his attention over to the rest of his friends, which, right, it’s not just the two of them. “And thank you guys for coming too. And probably getting him here somehow.”

Lindsay shakes her head. “That was all him. The film was good, though, yours was the most colorful.”

“In personality and in using actual colors,” Kerry mutters.

Miles looks at Kyle in surprise. “Wait, you just showed up? Where are you staying?”

“Holiday Inn,” Kyle says.

Miles’s jaw drops. “The luxurious Holiday Inn? Oh, you definitely spent too much money coming here if you have to stay there.”

“Are you here for the whole weekend?” Gray asks. “We can show you around town, tell you all the embarrassing Miles stories you missed-”

“And you can tell us some of yours,” Kerry adds, a little too seriously.

Kyle laughs. “No, I’m just here for the night. I leave tomorrow morning.”

“What time?” Miles demands. “We can do breakfast-”

“The plane takes off at 5:15.”

“In the morning?” Lindsay stares at him. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Nope,” Miles says. “You’re changing planes, staying the weekend, leaving at a reasonable time, the works.”

Kyle frowns at him. “I don’t know if there’s a fee-”

“I’ll pay it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You don’t have to be here, but since you’re here, you’re worth at least the sixty dollars it’ll cost to send you back on Sunday afternoon instead of the asscrack of dawn tomorrow.”

“Sixty dollars,” Kyle says dryly. “I’m valuable.”

“Oh, come on.” Miles bumps a shoulder against Kyle’s. “You know you’re worth more than that.”

“At least sixty-five,” Kerry says. “Maybe even fifty cents more than that.”

“You’re worth at least fifty cents to me,” Lindsay says.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Gray offers. “Actual dinner, not just cookies and punch.”

“This is college, nobody needs any more than cookies and punch,” Miles scoffs, but turns to Kyle. “Actually, never mind, I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“Miles, no.”

“Miles, yes, come on, we’re going out, let’s go.” Miles starts toward a door and, with a shrug, Kerry follows him.

Gray looks bemusedly at Kyle. “I think he just co-opted my dinner offer, but seriously, it’s nice having you here.”

“I don’t know how you didn’t fall over when he jumped on you,” Lindsay adds.

Kyle shrugs. “I’ve known him since second grade, I’m kind of used to it.”

Lindsay leans in intently. “Kyle, if you can tell us stories about Miles in elementary school, I think we’ll love you forever.”

“A lot of the good stories also involve killing my own reputation.”

Gray claps his shoulder. “Take one for the team and tell them anyways. Let’s go see what dinner is.”

 

To: Josh (9:05 PM)  
There’s a pretty big chance that Miles forces me to stay an extra day or two

From: Josh (9:07 PM)  
You’re not actually surprised by that are you

To: Josh (9:08 PM)  
Sort of am actually

To: Josh (9:08 PM)  
Anyways don’t expect me back tomorrow

From: Josh (9:10 PM)  
This is literally the least surprising news ever, Kyle

 

From: Miles (9:13 PM)  
FWD: thereunion.mp4

From: Miles (9:14 PM)  
Gray filmed it

To: Miles (9:15 PM)  
Aw we’re sort of cute

From: Miles (9:16 PM)  
Why are you texting me we’re actually in the same place for once

To: Miles (9:17 PM)  
Good question

 

Throughout the next day and a half, Miles pays for Kyle to change flights home, half the cost of an extra night at the hotel, dinner, coffee, lunch, and also promises to get breakfast on the morning of Kyle’s return.

“This is where I draw the line,” Kyle announces when Miles tries to pay for dinner on Saturday night. Most of their adventures had involved either Gray, Kerry, or Lindsay; dinner was just the two of them. The first time they were really, properly alone together in three months. “You’ve been paying my whole way, but this one’s on me.”

Miles looks aghast. “I can’t make you pay after I’m the one who insisted on getting dessert.”

“And you can’t stop me from paying after you gave up an entire weekend, which you probably could’ve spent studying, to spend time with me,” Kyle counters, and takes the check. Miles lets him with a pout. “What other exciting things do you have to show me?”

“My dorm room,” Miles offers. “Kerry agreed to fuck off for the night, so you know, we can just hang out if you want.”

“That sounds good.”

“It sounds really good, I missed just hanging out with you.” Miles’s gaze sharpens. “But you can’t pay for dinner after you paid for the plane-”

“Nope, stopping you right there.” Kyle takes his wallet out, pulls out enough cash to cover dinner and a good tip, and sets it on the table. “Let’s go, I haven’t gotten to hang out in your room yet.”

Miles’s room reminds Kyle a lot of his own dorm room, which makes him wonder if every dorm room is the same or if he and Miles are just weirdly similar. There is, in fact, a framed picture of the two of them on Miles’s desk, from graduation. He wanders over to the desk and picks it up. “I didn’t know you had this.”

“Parents,” Miles says, although his cheeks turn pink. “It was a gift, something about making the room homier.”

Kyle snorts. “Right, because nothing says home like framed photos.”

“It’s a good photo,” Miles says.

Kyle looks at it again. It is a good photo. They’re both in their caps and gowns, arms around each other’s shoulders, holding up diplomas and grinning. It reminds Kyle of home.

He’s not homesick, never has really been the type for it. He always just calls his mom if he misses her. Mostly, he misses Miles. And now here Miles is, sitting on his shitty bed in a shitty room, in Kyle’s space like he’s been all weekend. He knows it’s not forever (could probably say how many hours he has left before the plane leaves, although that’s a little dark) but he has it now. He has Miles now.

He sets the photo back on Miles’s desk, trying to angle it the same as it was when he picked it up. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Miles shrugs and pats the space next to him on the bed. Kyle sits down next to him and, as expected, Miles flops over onto his lap. “We talk a lot,” he says softly, looking up at Kyle. “I kinda just wanna be quiet now.”

Kyle smiles. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, and adjusts himself so he’s sitting a little more comfortably. “We can do that.”

 

Miles might be crying when he drops Kyle off at the airport. That’s not important. Kyle doesn’t really want to think about the airport. Or leaving. God, he doesn’t want to think about leaving.

 

From: Miles (12:37 PM)  
I miss you

From: Miles (12:37 PM)  
I know it’s only been like a minute but still

To: Miles (12:38 PM)  
I miss you too

To: Miles (12:39 PM)  
Only three weeks till winter break

From: Miles (12:40 PM)  
That’s so LONG

To: Miles (12:41 PM)  
We made it three months, we can do three weeks

From: Miles (12:42 PM)  
I know

From: Miles (12:42 PM)  
But I still miss you

 

**2.**

“I looked up how far it is from Vanford to Bluemont,” Miles says.

The floor of Miles’s treehouse is uncomfortable, now that Kyle is eighteen and bigger than the walls. And come to think of it the roof looks less sturdy than he remembers. He can see the moonlight through it.

There are still people in Miles’s backyard, and Kyle’s. Family members are talking, low-voiced, probably about politics or the future or any of the other shit Kyle is going to have to care about now that he graduated high school. It’d been easy for them to escape their own grad party, Miles pointing at the treehouse and saying “do you think it’d still hold us,” and they’ve been there for, well. Kyle doesn’t know. He feels like checking the time would break the spell.

He sits up just enough that he can see Miles’s face. They’re lying diagonal, corner to corner because it’s the only way they both fit, Miles’s feet next to Kyle’s head. When he finds Miles’s eyes in the dark they’re fixed on the roof.

“Five hundred miles,” Kyle says, only sort of a question.

“Five hundred and seven,” Miles says. Kyle lies back down and looks at the ceiling. “What are we gonna do?”

“Text like the world is ending.”

“No, I mean-” Miles sits up so fast it almost makes Kyle’s head spin. “You and I have never lived farther away than we do right now. There’s a hole in the fence between our backyards, Kyle, my parents wouldn’t do that for just anyone. What are we going to do when that’s not there anymore?”

Kyle sits up as slowly as he can. In the moonlight, he can make out just enough of Miles’s face to see that he’s upset. Actually upset.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he says softly, resting one hand on Miles’s knee. “We’re going to text. We’re going to Skype, and call, and send each other pictures of dumb shit that we see around town. And we’re going to spend this entire summer together, because that’s what we do.”

“I’ve known you for eleven years,” Miles murmurs. “I don’t remember the last time we were apart for more than a week at a time.”

Kyle does - the summer before eighth grade, when Miles’s parents decided that it was a good time to tour America and spent a month driving around the country. There had been a lot of texting then, too. Fourteen-year-old Kyle was kind of upset about it. He’s pretty sure that eighteen-year-old Kyle isn’t going to do so well either, but that’s not the kind of thing that Miles needs to hear right now.

“Five hundred miles isn’t that far,” he tries.

Miles looks away. “It’s pretty far.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“You’re going to be in a whole other city, going out and meeting people and figuring out what you want to do with your life, and I’m going to be-”

“Miles.”

“-surrounded by people who are at least as good as I am at everything, who are probably going to have better work ethics and actual friends on campus and-”

“Miles!” Kyle squeezes his knee. “We have three months.”

“But that’s not enough time-”

“For what? Because trust me, Vanford wouldn’t accept you if you couldn’t hack it, and if nobody on campus wants to be friends with you then that’s their loss. You’re going to do fine.”

Miles turns back to him, and Kyle’s breath catches. He looks so _sad_ and Kyle is pretty sure he’d personally pull the moon out of the sky if it’d fix things.

“What am I gonna do without you?” Miles says, barely above a whisper.

“Miles,” Kyle says, as seriously as possible. “You are my best fucking friend. We could be on opposite ends of the globe, let alone the state of Texas, and you’d still be my best friends. You could go off to Vanford and meet a dozen people more talented than me-” oh god, there are tears in his eyes, he can’t do this- “a dozen people with decided majors and actual plans, and I’m still going to call you the best fucking friend I’ve ever had. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Miles shakes his head, but he smiles as he does it, and Kyle feels a rush of relief. “I’m gonna miss you so goddamn much.”

“No, none of that, c’mere.” Kyle leans in and pulls Miles into a hug. It’s awkward, with the way they’re sitting, and Miles’s forehead ends up propped on Kyle’s collarbone, but it’s still heartfelt. “You can miss me later. I’m here now.”

“I know,” Miles mumbles, and then, a second later, “You know, one out of every five college students starts off with an undecided major.”

It’s an old not-quite-argument, one that Kyle really doesn’t want to rehash right now. He knows that he’s not the only one in the world who doesn’t know what he wants to do. But when he spends all his time with Miles, who’s as passionate as can be - when he got to watch Miles take a class on film production in high school and have that spark of _this is what I want to do,_ when he’s still waiting for his own spark - it’s hard, sometimes. It’s hard to not know.

“I know,” Kyle says, and pulls his arms back. “But we’ve got all summer to worry about school.”

“And all night to worry about nothing,” Miles says decisively, and leans back.

Slowly, Kyle lies back down, pillowing his head behind his arms. He can almost see a couple of stars, through a hole in the roof. A couple of glasses clink, down below.

“‘M gonna fall asleep,” Miles mumbles, some time later.

“We don’t have to leave,” Kyle answers, voice scratchy. “We can stay.”

“Just for now,” Miles says. “Just stay.”

Kyle doesn’t know when Miles falls asleep, or when he falls asleep, or when they wake up. All he remembers is opening his eyes and staring at the sun through the cracks in the roof - more cracks than there were last night, it seems like, and the floorboards are more faded. He can’t move without hitting either Miles or the wall.

But Miles is there. And the sun is bright, and everything still feels breakable, and Kyle thinks, _don’t forget this, don’t lose this, don’t leave this._ Kyle thinks, _I want to stay._

 

**7.**

From: Miles (11:47 AM)  
I have a surprise for you

To: Miles (11:49 AM)  
Define surprise

From: Miles (11:50 AM)  
Your mom was in on it

To: Miles (11:51 AM)  
Oh shit really that’s a pretty big surprise

To: Miles (11:52 AM)  
Do I get a hint??

From: Miles (11:55 AM)  
Ask again after your chemistry final (good luck)

To: Miles (11:56 AM)  
Thanks and I’ll let you know how it goes

 

To: Miles (1:34 PM)  
So???

To: Miles (1:35 PM)  
The final was easy and I’m actually scared that you didn’t text me at all in an hour and a half

To: Miles (1:37 PM)  
Oh my god are you DRIVING

To: Miles (1:38 PM)  
Miles Anthony Luna are you driving to visit me right now

To: Miles (1:38 PM)  
I mean don’t answer if you’re driving but also dude holy shit

 

There has been a plan in place for winter break for over a month. Miles’s last final was a day before Kyle’s, so he drove home yesterday; Kyle’s mom is coming to pick him up tomorrow morning, and he and Miles will be able to see each other by the afternoon. Miles had gone home for Thanksgiving but Kyle hadn’t, so it’ll be nice to be back. Kyle misses home. He misses spending time with his mom. He was sort of looking forward to the drive home with her, in all honesty.

Instead, when there’s a knock on Kyle’s dorm room, it’s Miles on the other end, grinning ear to ear. “Miss me?”

“You know I did,” Kyle says, and hugs Miles, buries his face in Miles’s neck. He hopes Miles can’t feel his heart racing, but if he can he doesn’t say anything.

“Your campus is fucking scary,” Miles says into Kyle’s hair. “You have, like, seventeen parking lots? And two different freshman dorms? I thought I was going to die in that maze before I saw you again.”

“I’ll show you around, it’s not as big as it looks.”

“It’s huge!” Miles props his chin on top of Kyle’s head. “Your room’s tiny, though. Is Josh here?”

“He left this morning.” Kyle steps back and gestures at his bed. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“It looks like a college student lives here,” Miles says, mock-disgusted. He gravitates towards Kyle’s bed and flops over on it. “It’s a total mess.”

Kyle knows that if things were normal, he’d sit on the bed with Miles, maybe even lie down next to him. Things aren’t normal. He goes to stand near Miles’s head, but he doesn’t sit. “Well, if it looks like just one college student lives here, then Josh and I are doing pretty well for ourselves.”

Miles snorts. “You saw my room, you’re better than I am.”

“I’ve always been cleaner than you are.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“You know it is.” Kyle smiles down at him, and Miles beams back up. “You know, this is a pretty good surprise.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. C’mere.” Miles’s hands wrap around Kyle’s forearm, and he tugs down. “Don’t tell me you got a sense of personal space now.”

“He says as he tries to pull me onto a twin bed on top of him,” Kyle mutters, but he goes down anyways, sitting on the pillow. Miles wriggles so his head is resting against one of Kyle’s thighs. “Got any good classes next semester?”

Miles shrugs. “One of my friends dragged me into taking an intro graphic design class with him. He’s studying visual arts, so he’ll make sure I don’t fail.”

Kyle nods, drops a hand to Miles’s hair, and freezes. Is that weird? Is that something he should be doing right now, or is that invasive? What exactly is normal for them?

“How about you?” Miles asks, tipping his head back to look at Kyle. Kyle lets his fingers run through Miles’s hair; Miles doesn’t react, so he’s pretty sure that this is a non-issue. “Looking forward to anything?”

“I’m taking chemistry again next semester, actually.”

“No shit?”

Kyle shrugs. “Yeah, you know how this one was like, softball chemistry for non-majors who just need a science credit? I kinda liked it.”

“So you’re taking it for real!” Miles grins up at him. “That’s awesome. You’re gonna know how to blow things up.”

“I don’t know why that’s the first thing you thought of, but yes, I know how to blow things up.”

Miles gasps. Kyle suddenly, immediately regrets saying that out loud.

 

To: Mom (5:17 PM)  
Thanks for the surprise, but is there any reason you couldn’t come?

From: Mom (5:29 PM)  
Work came up, but luckily Miles was there and willing to drive.

From: Mom (5:30 PM)  
I think he missed you a lot, you know.

To: Mom (5:33 PM)  
I missed him too.

To: Mom (5:34 PM)  
And I miss you. I’ll see you tomorrow.

From: Mom (5:36 PM)  
Drive safe, you two. <3

 

Nothing that Kyle says can convince Miles that the Bluemont campus is a reasonable size. As soon as they get to the physical science building (“you mean you have more than one building for science, what the fuck?”) it’s a lost cause.

“It’s kind of overwhelming here,” Miles admits, around the time he discovers the third dining hall. “I know you like it here - you actually like it here, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kyle agrees.

Miles nods. “It’s way too fucking much for me, I’m happy with really super specialized tiny programs and all that.”

“Then you’re in the right place too,” Kyle says. It sucks that their right places aren’t the same place, but, well. That’s why God invented Skype.

Miles bumps his shoulder against Kyle’s. “Okay, I got the campus tour, now take me somewhere cool in the city.”

“Somewhere cool?”

“Yeah! Show me the little hole-in-the-wall that only locals know about, or something like that.” Miles arches an eyebrow. “How does Kyle Taylor live?”

“Eating ramen and playing Minesweeper on my phone,” Kyle says dryly. “Come on, I know a pretty good Chinese place.”

“If you take me to a Panda Express, I’m never talking to you again.”

“Panda Express is good food!”

Miles shakes his head, grinning. “You never change, do you?”

“Nah,” Kyle says, grins back, ignores the way his heart picks up the pace, lets one of his hands brush against Miles’s. Things aren’t the same, but at least this is. At least Miles is.

 

To: Josh (7:55 PM)  
Miles likes that Chinese place on Riverside so you’re officially outnumbered

From: Josh (7:56 PM)  
What the fuck I missed meeting the infamous Miles?

From: Josh (7:56 PM)  
Also he’s wrong too so you guys are a perfect match

 

**8.**

Kyle leaves Bluemont with two suitcases, one with gifts and personal items and one with a load of laundry to do at home. Miles has almost the same music in his library that he had before school started, which is a comfort. It’s good to be able to roll the windows down and shout along to Mr. Brightside, just like they always do.

Forty-three minutes into the trip, Miles looks at Kyle sidelong. “So I’m going to be the first asshole to ask you this, but it’s only because I haven’t in a while, and because everyone you know is going to be asking you.”

Kyle sighs. “You’re going to ask the question, aren’t you.”

“Kyle, dear, we’re just worried about you,” Miles says, pinching his voice in the impersonation of Kyle’s extended family that he’s been doing for years. “Have you picked a major yet? Do you know what you want to do with your life, or are you still just at university, partying?”

“I don’t know what a party is,” Kyle lies brazenly.

“Oh, of course, I know you’d never go anywhere near that,” Miles lies right back to him. “I just want to know how you’re doing, academically speaking.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Miles drops his voice to a normal pitch. “Seriously, did anything this semester speak to you?”

“I liked chemistry,” Kyle admits.

Miles laughs. “Mr. C just felt a disturbance in the force.”

“Fifteen-year-old me felt a disturbance in the timestream.”

“You’re gonna be a scientist, KT?”

“It depends if I like the next class,” Kyle says, because it’s always better to be cautious. But really, it’s not out of the question - it’s a shitton of work, but he likes it. He likes the idea of figuring out what the universe is made up of.

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I think it’ll be okay.”

“No, really,” Miles says earnestly. Kyle looks over at him, means it to be just for a second but can’t make himself look away. Miles’s eyes are sparkling, fixed on the road, but when he notices Kyle looking he glances over and smiles. “Even if this isn’t it, it’s cool that you found something. Especially something you weren’t sure you were going to like. I’m happy for you, man.”

Kyle almost forgets to answer. He’s suddenly, vividly aware of everything around him right now, like his brain is trying to take a picture, like it’s trying to tell him _remember this._ The car still smells like the McDonald’s they had for breakfast. Miles is playing Jimmy Eat World, for some godforsaken reason, but Kyle knows every word to the song anyways. It’s warm, even though it’s December, with grey winter light streaming through the windows, gleaming on Miles’s hair, in his eyes, against the steering wheel. Everything, for an impossibly long moment, feels right.

“Thank you,” Kyle manages, even though it’s not what he wants to say, it’s not nearly enough. Everything is motionless but moving, like it’s trying to break out of the snapshot, and he has to look away so that time can keep going.

He files away that mental image. He won’t lose that.

 

**6.**

The text message that makes Kyle realize he’s in love with Miles comes on a Saturday morning in December.

It is, all told, not a grand moment. It’s not a bullet to the brain or an explosion off in the distance, there’s no swelling music, there’s nothing dramatic at all. Kyle is eating Lucky fucking Charms in the dining hall with Josh, texting Miles about Saturday morning cartoons. At 9:53 in the morning, Kyle gets a text that says _Leo is the most boring ninja turtle, but you already knew that._

He knows that. He doesn’t think it’s true, but it’s an argument they’ve been having since the fourth grade. Kyle thinks all the ninja turtles are cool, but for reasons that he doesn’t understand to this fucking day, Miles thinks Leo is boring. He still says so every now and again, and it pisses Kyle off to no end, because there’s nothing wrong with a ninja turtle that follows the fucking rules, okay, Miles?

Except he’s never actually angry, because it’s Miles. And god knows Kyle teases him right back, has for the last dozen or so years of their life. They have too many inside jokes to count, ones that they don’t remember properly and ones that are still funny to this day. Kyle still knows all of Miles’s favorite cartoon characters. Miles always had a box of Kyle’s favorite Pop Tarts hidden under his bed, just in case Kyle snuck into his bedroom.

Miles has never failed to make room for Kyle, one way or another. He gave up a whole weekend for Kyle without a second thought. He made it possible for Kyle to stay longer. He stays up way too late on random days listening to Kyle talk about chemistry. And Kyle likes to think he’s pretty good about returning that devotion, has answered more than a few “I know it’s three in the morning but I don’t understand why I’m in a prestigious arts school” phone calls. But it’s not a big deal. It never is. It’s Miles.

Miles, his best friend. Who still likes to make fun of a boring ninja turtle, nearly a decade after the argument started.

Kyle reads the text once, twice, feels something warm in his chest, and says “Oh, shit.”

The phone doesn’t answer. Neither does the cereal.

“Oh, shit,” Kyle says again, “I’m in love with my best friend.”

“Took you long enough,” Josh says, because he’s a fucking _asshole_ and also because Kyle forgot that Josh was with him. Kyle looks up at him, and whatever look is on his face must be pretty desperate, because Josh’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit, you really didn’t know.”

“Why would I have known?” Kyle says, a little hoarse.

“Because…” Josh shrugs. “I dunno. Do you need a minute?”

Kyle looks back at his phone. _Leo is the most boring ninja turtle,_ it says, completely unaware of its owner’s breakdown. Miles is probably expecting an answer. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Yeah, I think I do,” he says faintly.

Josh reaches across the table and pats his shoulder. “Nobody Skypes someone four times a week if they’re not in love,” he says, with a weight to it that Kyle can’t comprehend. He pushes his chair back and wanders somewhere else in the dining hall.

As soon as Kyle can breathe properly again, he picks up his phone and, carefully, types back _and here I thought you didn’t hold grudges._ And slowly the world returns to normal, or something like it.

Miles texts back, eventually, and Kyle texts him, just like always. The only difference is that it’s hard not to say _I love you_ at the end of every sentence.

 

**9.**

From: Miles (2:09 AM)  
We should go for a walk

 

Kyle loves his extended family, in the same vague way that he loves people who like mustard on hot dogs and classmates who want to know how everyone else did on the test. That is to say, it’s less of a love and more of a begrudging tolerance, just because these people exist and they’re part of his world, whether he likes it or not.

The Taylor family is a lot of things, but they’re not exactly kind. From the minute Kyle was old enough to understand that they don’t think his mother can raise him on her own, he decided he didn’t particularly like any of them. Unfortunately, for in-depth family reasons that he doesn’t know or care about, the Taylor family also comes to Kyle’s house to celebrate Christmas every year. He has resented the idea of “the most wonderful time of the year” for a long time now. They always show up four days before Christmas and leave two days after, a couple dozen relatives flocking around Kyle and his life.

Miles is waiting outside for Kyle, hands stuffed in his pockets, cheeks red from the cold. He smiles as soon as Kyle is out the front door - his mom stopped trying to prevent sneak-outs by the time he was fifteen, just because he was more likely to wake her up sneaking out than just leaving. “Hey.”

“It’s two-fifteen in the morning,” Kyle says, partly because he thinks he’s still a little asleep and because Miles apparently doesn’t understand that.

“Follow me,” Miles says, and turns abruptly on the sidewalk.

Kyle sighs, pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, and falls into step beside him. “What’s the plan?”

“I have a destination,” Miles announces. “It’s a mystery, see if you can guess it.”

“Well, we’re walking away from your house, so it’s not that.”

“You are a true detective, KT.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Are we leaving the neighborhood?”

“Yep,” Miles says, keeping his eyes forward. “But not going far.”

“Are we going to that one 24-hour coffee shop?”

“That’s a weird name for a Taco Bell.”

“It’s a Taco Bell now?”

“Yeah,” Miles sighs. They’ve been talking about wanting more fast food in town for years, but god, Kyle didn’t think it’d come at the expense of a local place. “Be careful what you wish for, right?”

“Right,” Kyle murmurs as they cross a street. Miles doesn’t bother to stop for traffic, probably because it’s two in the fucking morning and nobody is driving. “Is this a food trip?”

“Nostalgia trip.”

“Everything in this town is nostalgic.”

“That just adds to the mystery!” Miles jostles Kyle with his elbow. “No, but think far back. Like, before middle school.”

Kyle frowns. There aren’t a lot of places they could’ve visited before middle school, at least not that have any kind of nostalgic value. “Do I get another hint?”

“I just gave you the best hint I possibly could, you don’t get any more than that.” Miles pauses and then says, a little hesitantly, “How many people are coming this year?”

“Fourteen, I think. Grandparents, three aunts, two uncles, seven cousins. Do you have Christmas plans?”

“Yeah, coming over to your house and trying to scare off your relatives.”

Kyle shudders. “No, god, save yourself.”

“You’re gonna need backup! Against the cruel words of your family.”

“They’re not cruel, they’re just assholes.”

Miles shrugs. “Same difference.” They reach the edge of their neighborhood, and Miles turns right. “Figured it out yet?”

Kyle thinks about it. They’re going to the very edges of town, away from the shops. There’s almost nothing that they could’ve visited as kids, except-

“Miles,” he says slowly. “When you said we were going somewhere we used to visit in elementary school, did you mean we’re actually going to the elementary school?”

“Hey, you figured it out!” Miles grins at him. “College students deserve to feel like kids again, right?”

“I don’t think two adults going to a school in the middle of the night is as strong of a nostalgia trip as you think,” Kyle tells him.

“Nah,” Miles says. “It’s going to be a good trip, don’t worry. Totally worth it. The playground isn’t fenced off, so it’s not like we’re breaking and entering. Just using publicly available equipment.”

“There’s a city park we could’ve gone to that has playground equipment.”

“That’s not fun, I’m trying for something really specific here.”

Kyle raises his eyebrows. “Are you?”

“You’re gonna love it,” Miles says, with such determination that Kyle decides then and there that he’ll love it even if he actually hates it. “Totally worth sneaking out for.”

“It’s not really sneaking-”

“Shut up, you’re an adult, let’s pretend you snuck out of your own house for a minute.”

The elementary school is only half a block’s walk away, and they’re hurrying through the cold. Kyle doesn’t even realize that they’ve fallen into silence until they reach the playground, and he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, my god, they remodeled.”

“The swings are the same, though!” Miles breaks into a run towards the swing set. Kyle grins, lifts his scarf so it covers his face, and runs after him.

Miles sits in one of the swings. “Push me,” he demands, “come on, I want to swing.”

“You’re eighteen, not eight,” Kyle says, but he sounds stupidly fond, and he goes behind Miles anyways. “You ready?”

“Push me, you asshole,” Miles laughs.

Kyle grabs the chains on either side of the swings. He hasn’t pushed someone on a swing in years, probably, but there are some things that are just muscle memory. This is one of them. He pulls the swing back and pushes Miles forward, and Miles is off.

“Oh my god, it’s cold,” Miles gasps, “it’s so cold when you swing, Kyle, don’t do it, my lips are chapping, _ow._ ”

“I’m wearing a scarf, dumbass,” Kyle says, and climbs on his own swing. He doesn’t make any effort to swing as high as Miles, who’s pumping his legs furiously and grinning through the lip-chapping cold. The chains are too dull to reflect the moonlight, but Miles is lit up silver.

 _I’m in love,_ Kyle thinks, swinging his legs idly. It’s not a revelation anymore, only a reality. He’d been terrified of blurting it out when Miles visited him, the car ride home, the first time their families had dinner together after they got home, every minute since then. It’s such an simple part of reality now, that this is his best friend who he’s in love with, that it’s easy to forget that he’s the only one who knows it.

“You’re not swinging,” Miles cries, feet planting on the ground. He wobbles dangerously but stays on his swing, giving Kyle a betrayed look. “Why aren’t you swinging?”

Kyle shrugs. “I’m happy down here.”

Miles sighs and twists his swing to face Kyle’s a little more directly. “It’s only for a week,” he says, apologetically. “I know they always suck, but at least they’re only there for a week.”

“The worst week of the year,” Kyle mutters, but gives Miles a grateful look anyways. “Thanks.”

Miles smiles and immediately winces. “Ow, okay, I was joking a little bit when I said that my lips were chapped, but they’re actually really fucking cold right now.”

Kyle unwinds the scarf from around his neck and holds it out. “Here.”

“That’s not chapstick.”

“No, but it’s something that’ll keep wind from blowing in your face.”

“Don’t you need it?”

Kyle rolls his eyes and stands up. “Don’t be like that, c’mere.” He loops the scarf around Miles’s neck and smooths it down. His hands slow down and then, only somewhat of his own accord, stop to rest on Miles’s shoulders.

Miles stares up at him, wide-eyed. It’s always novel when Kyle is taller than Miles for some reason or another - Miles’s growth spurt came when he was thirteen, and he’s been much taller than Kyle since then - but this is different, somehow.

“There,” Kyle says, hands still on Miles’s shoulders. He can’t make himself move. And then he adds, a little nonsensically, “It looks good on you.”

Miles’s lips twitch into a half-smile. “Thanks,” he says. He’s still looking at Kyle.

 _I’m in love with you,_ Kyle almost says. Instead he drops his eyes. He smooths his hands down the rest of the scarf, but before he can lift them all the way Miles catches one of his wrists.

“I,” Miles says, and when Kyle looks at him again his eyes are wide. “I want- okay, I’m about to make, like, the biggest douchebag move in the world, but you can tell me to stop, if you want me to, okay?”

Kyle stares. “Okay?” Miles repeats. His fingers go rigid against Kyle’s wrist.

“Okay,” Kyle says, as loudly as he can manage. It’s barely a whisper.

Miles nods and slowly gets to his feet. The hand that isn’t on Kyle’s wrist drops down to Kyle’s waist, tugs him closer, and slowly, so slowly, Miles leans in.

There’s a hysterical second where Kyle decides he’s dreaming. It’d be the first dream about Miles, but it’s not totally out of line. He’s been expecting this for a while, and he’s going to wake up as soon Miles is about to kiss him. It’s a dream. But if it’s not, he should probably kiss him back.

Kyle closes his eyes. Miles’s lips press against his.

The first thing that Kyle registers is the _cold,_ followed by the chapped. Miles’s lips are dry against his, but they’re real. Miles is kissing him.

Slowly, Kyle flattens his hand against Miles’s chest and reaches up with his other hand to pull Miles down. Miles gasps against his mouth and Kyle takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, push back harder, he is in love with this boy and he can’t breathe because of it. He is in love with this boy and it’s the reason he breathes.

After some immeasurable number of seconds Miles pulls away. Kyle feels cold without him, until Miles rests his forehead against Kyle’s. His eyes are sparkling. Kyle grins at him. “Hi.”

“Hi there,” Miles says, the slightest of tremors in his voice. “So that was okay?”

“That was absolutely okay.”

“Only okay?”

“Welllllllll…”

Miles makes an indignant noise and ducks in to press another quick kiss against Kyle’s lips. “I spend like two minutes making out with you and I’m only okay?”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Kyle manages to say before he starts laughing, breathlessly. “Oh my god, that happened.”

“That happened,” Miles agrees, lifting a hand to cup the back of Miles’s neck. “It can happen again if you want.”

“Just making out?”

“Well, we can do more than that, but you’re gonna have to buy me dinner first.”

“I can do that,” Kyle says. “So, are we-”

“Long distance is going to be hard,” Miles says, almost musingly, “but we’ve made it this far, right? I mean, we can definitely do this.”

“We can,” Kyle agrees, heart beating faster. “We can spend time together over spring break, and summer, and-”

“And as long as we want to figure things out.”

“I want to figure things out.”

“Me too.” Miles leans in, kisses Kyle again on the lips, on one cheek, on the nose. “Hey, Kyle?”

“Yes, Miles.”

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

Kyle waits for the slowdown, one of those elastic snapshot moments, for the world around him to become clear and unforgettable. It doesn’t come. Instead he just grins. “I’d love to.”

“Awesome,” Miles says. This time it’s Kyle who leans in to kiss him, and he can feel Miles smiling against his lips.

He doesn’t need a clear memory of this, he decides. All he needs to remember is Miles.

 

**10.**

The first time Kyle says the word “boyfriend,” his mom cries and hugs both him and Miles. Miles’s parents don’t cry, but they give hugs. Kyle’s racist Aunt Jen almost explodes, which means Kyle’s mom finally has a reason to throw her out of the house. Josh starts shouting “Yes, thank god, _finally,_ ” so loudly that Miles starts laughing on the other end of the Skype call.

(Kyle doesn’t cry the first time Miles introduces him as his boyfriend. He comes pretty close, though.)

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is a (misheard) lyric from Bon Iver's [Hinnom, TX.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOUyTzhJuFo)
> 
> You can always find me on [Tumblr](http://pervincetosscobble.tumblr.com) or [Twitter.](http://twitter.com/ezrabridgers)
> 
> And thank you for reading. <3


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